


When Pain is Over (It Often Becomes a Pleasure)

by rosewiththorns



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: 300 Goals, Anal Sex, Detroit Red Wings, Discipline, Fingering, Fondling, Kissing, M/M, Milestone Goals, Oral Sex, Punishment, Reward, Sexual Submission, Spanking, Telepathic Bond, Telepathy, blowjob, celebration, pleasure and pain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-31
Updated: 2016-01-31
Packaged: 2018-05-17 07:54:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5860531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosewiththorns/pseuds/rosewiththorns
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hank wants to celebrate Pavel's 300th goal, but Pavel just wants to be punished. Set after Pavel scored his 300th NHL goal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When Pain is Over (It Often Becomes a Pleasure)

**Author's Note:**

> This story involves a telepathic bond between two people. Quotation marks in this work indicate words spoken across this connection rather than aloud.

“When pain is over, the remembrance of it often becomes a pleasure.”—Jane Austen

When Pain is Over (It Often Becomes a Pleasure)

“Three hundred goals.” Hank patted Pavel’s head as he had done earlier that night when Pavel had skated the length of the bench, accepting the congratulations of all his teammates with his trademark grin, except this time there was no glove and helmet separating them, and the bond between them was almost electric as it often was when they made direct physical contact. 

Hank could not only hear the pride in Pavel’s thoughts; he could feel the raw excitement and euphoria—mildly dampened by the final result of a loss—thudding through Pavel’s veins and experienced it as a sensation within his own body. His affection for Pavel swelled, and he knew Pavel sensed it, because he felt a gentle, invisible tap in his brain like a poke from a school friend when a teacher wasn’t watching. Not for the first time, it occurred to Hank that telepathy was a mirror that reflected himself in another and made him all the more self-aware since none of his ideas or emotions remained private or entirely his own, distinct from Pavel’s reaction to them. 

“Got lost in the mire of your own deep thoughts again, huh, Hank?” Pavel’s teasing tone in Hank’s head made it apparent that he knew what bunny trail down which Hank’s mind had been hopping. 

“This is not a time for taunting. It’s a time for rejoicing.” Hank’s hand slid down to massage the nape of Pavel’s neck. He felt Pavel shiver beneath his touch and understood that Pavel was torn between wanting to celebrate his milestone goal and not wishing to seem selfish by being too happy after a team loss. Sending out a ripple of assurance through their connection that joy after scoring three hundred NHL goals was absolutely permissible even in defeat, Hank went on, “Three hundred NHL goals deserves a reward.” 

“A loss doesn’t deserve a reward but a punishment.” Pavel’s thought, echoing the pursed set of his lips, was grim, but there was an undercurrent humming inside him that told Hank that Pavel, on a primal level, both sensed and longed for the sort of reward Hank was referring to…

“It’s not a reward for the loss.” Hank cupped Pavel’s chin between his palms and stroke the under-curve of Pavel jaw, relishing the sensation of Pavel swallowing what felt like a frog in his throat. “It’s a reward for the three hundred goals.” 

Then, before Pavel could protest further, he tugged Pavel’s lips to his and kissed them gently. He felt Pavel’s tenderness melting into his as the kissing continued, Pavel’s mouth falling open to let Hank’s tongue flit into it. As his tongue tickled the inside of Pavel’s cheeks, he felt quivers of amusement almost like giggles filter through their bond from Pavel. 

“That feel good, Pasha?” Hank asked unnecessarily, since he could feel Pavel’s pleasure multiplying his own, as telepathy made him more conscious of every tingling nerve in his body and Pavel’s. 

“Yes.” There was a wry impatience to Pavel’s reply that indicated he yearned for Hank to carry on with the proceedings employing considerably more haste. 

“How about this?” Hank’s eyebrows arched as he obliged Pavel by slipping a hand up Pavel’s shirt, where it darted from one nipple to the other, rubbing, twisting lightly, and tweaking, each touch producing a moan in the back of Pavel’s mind. 

When one of those moans emerged from his mouth, Hank chuckled and blazed a trail of kisses down Pavel’s neck and collarbone, lifting Pavel’s shirt first over his shoulders and then off his head as he did so, loving how Pavel shot pleas for him not to stop across their bond. Once Pavel’s chest was exposed, Hank paused to admire how pert Pavel’s nipples looked when they were as erect as they were now. 

“Cold?” Hank thumbed Pavel’s naked nipples. “I can help with that, Pasha.” 

“Aroused.” Pavel gave a roguish wink accompanied by a lopsided smirk. “You can help with that, too, though.” 

“You’re so wanton.” Delighted, Hank laughed before bringing his mouth to Pavel’s nipples to lick and nip as his palms caressed a path down to Pavel’s hipbones, where they lingered for a moment before wrapping around Pavel’s dick and discovering firsthand that—like Hank’s bulging cock—it had taken an incredible interest in what was transpiring. 

Eager to see just how excited Pavel was, Hank unzipped Pavel’s jeans and tugged them down to his knees, revealing briefs with a mountain in the middle. A second later, Pavel’s underwear had been yanked down to join his pants, and Hank’s mouth, abandoning Pavel’s nipples with a damp sound reminiscent of a plunger being removed from a toilet, began sucking at Pavel’s dick after he prodded Pavel onto the sofa of the otherwise empty meeting room where he had dragged Pavel to celebrate his milestone goal away from any prying eyes. 

Pavel’s moans of pleasure deepened into groans and grunts of ecstasy as Hank intensified the blow job that ultimately found release in a series of wild pants as Pavel came, firing a load of warm and salty semen onto Hank’s tongue. 

The taste of Pavel as delicious and addicting as ever in his mouth, Hank swallowed and then flipped Pavel over on the couch. Running his hands along the firm spheres of Pavel’s ass, Hank sent a murmur through their connection, reminding Pavel for at least the hundredth time how much he enjoyed seeing Pavel’s butt like this. 

“Want to go inside it?” Pavel’s coy manner imparted on Hank that not only was he cognizant that Hank longed to delve into his heat and tightness but also that Pavel himself craved Hank inside him, thrusting against his prostate, with equal fervor. 

His desire ignited into an inferno by Pavel’s passion, Hank nudged apart the cheeks of Pavel’s buttocks, whistling his approval as the pink circle of Pavel’s anus came into view. Delicately—experiencing a jolt of tension and arousal coil through his bond with Pavel following every lap—Hank licked Pavel’s hole until he was satisfied that it was well-lubricated. 

“Ready for a finger?” He sent the inquiry through their bond and felt Pavel’s answering nod before it came. 

Sticking a finger slick with his saliva into Pavel’s anus, Hank felt a tautening in Pavel’s mind that mirrored the one taking place around Hank’s finger as Pavel adjusted to the intrusion in his backside. Once he felt the waves of Pavel’s brain and body relaxing around the finger, he repeated the process with a second and third digit, scissoring the fingers inside Pavel until he was convinced that he had stretched Pavel enough to replace his fingers with his dick, which he did, gliding his cock into Pavel until their balls slapped against one another, creating electric sparks between them. 

Electricity pulsed between them as Hank pounded in and out o Pavel, rising and falling on a powerful current that was his ecstasy charged with Pavel’s until the light of love coursed through him, and he came into Pavel’s tight, hot hole. 

Still shaking from the spasms that had rocked him as he came, Hank collapsed beside Pavel on the sofa and rested his hand against Pavel’s back, feeling the shudders along Pavel’s spine as if they were his own shivers. 

“Thank you for the reward, Hank.” Pavel sounded breathless although he wasn’t speaking aloud. “I’m sorry for being selfish and not giving you a reward when you hit three hundred goals.” 

“Don’t worry about it.” Hank’s palm reached Pavel’s shoulder, where it squeezed. “I understand you weren’t being selfish, just injured.” 

After all, Hank had been able to feel Pavel’s pain and isolation as he recovered from his surgery at the start of the season, and he would never term that hurt or loneliness a type of selfishness. 

“I deserve to be punished.” Pavel’s insistence caused suspicion to flare in Hank. 

“You wanted to be punished since we came in here, didn’t you?” Hank shook Pavel’s shoulder and felt a tingle across his connection with Pavel as though Pavel were hoping to get the discipline and domination he occasionally longed for from Hank. “Holy shit, Pasha, you have a dark and kinky side!” 

“So punish me for it!” Pavel’s voice was practically a shout in Hank’s head. 

Deciding to drag out Pavel’s torment of waiting, Hank, sliding his hand down to hover over Pavel’s rump, inquired idly, “However shall I punish you?” 

“You could spank me, Hank,” suggested Pavel, jabbing his rear into Hank’s palm. 

“I don’t know if I want to spank you.” Hank patted the bottom Pavel had so temptingly wedged against him. 

“You mean you don’t like touching my butt?” Pavel’s pout resounded in Hank’s brain as Pavel wiggled his ass invitingly across Hank’s hands, begging for a smack. 

Caving at last to his urges and Pavel’s, Hank swatted the center of Pavel’s behind, staring at the ripples that formed and faded on the soft skin after his slap. He could feel Pavel’s shock at the first smack flow through him as he landed a second and third spank to the left and then the right cheek. 

Heat blazed inside him as he saw Pavel’s butt redden and felt it warm under his punishing palm as he continued to administer strong swats to Pavel’s ass, varying his spanks between the two cheeks so Pavel couldn’t anticipate where the next whack would arrive, but as soon as he sensed there was more pain than shock driving Pavel’s pleasure in the spanking, he stilled his hand, unable to cause Pavel pain even in the name of pleasure. 

“A spanking hurts me more than it does you,” explained Hank in response to the question of why he had ceased the spanking that Pavel sent across their bond, caressing the flaming globes of Pavel’s well-sculpted backside and marveling at how warm and substantial they were in his grip. 

“But I want to be spanked,” Pavel protested, sighing in mingled exasperation and pleasure as Hank stroked and squeezed his buttocks. 

“A punishment isn’t about what you want,” Hank reminded him, running a hand along the burning bow of Pavel’s ass. Then, feeling that Pavel had relaxed enough to make a spank a surprise and acting quickly enough that Pavel wouldn’t sense his intentions, Hank delivered a forceful swat to each of Pavel’s butt cheeks in rapid succession. As Pavel gasped in astonishment at the pair of slaps, Hank snickered, exhilarated at managing to catch someone as sharp as Pavel by surprise. “Don’t be a brat, Pasha, and be careful what you wish for because it just might come true.”


End file.
